


Jocks and Pyromaniacs

by Come_BackToMe



Series: When my time comes around [3]
Category: Daybreak (TV)
Genre: Angelica is a badass, Cussing 'cus it's Turbo, Eli's alive, Ghoulies, He's the champion of hide and seek is all, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Season 1 Spoilers, can be standalone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Come_BackToMe/pseuds/Come_BackToMe
Summary: Of all the people, Wesley aside, that Turbo had to try and trek a mile home through hell, then there isn’t anyone he'd choose over the pyromaniac slime-lord.
Relationships: Turbo Bro Jock & Angelica Green, Wesley Fists/Turbo Bro Jock
Series: When my time comes around [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552114
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Jocks and Pyromaniacs

**Author's Note:**

> All this is so I can write more where Turbo and Angelica are friends, and so I can give her another guardian, like at this point Crumble and the Cheermazon's are ride or die so what's one more :D

“Christ, you’re so loud!”

Turbo shoots the blonde a foul look.

“I mean who would have thought one person could make so much noise.” Angelica laments as she works on the chains holding the hospitals main doors shut. “Bet even Eli’s quieter than you.”

If there was ever a case for flipping a child off then it would be Angelica, however if said child also has a soldering iron that they’ve decked out to melt inch thick links then maybe it’s best that he keeps his mouth shut.

“Hey, I take offence at that.” Eli complains.

“Take the compliment sis.” Wesley looks up from the list Wheeler gave them, confusion making him look cuter than normal. “Who the fuck comes up with these names?”

“Fuck,” Angelica genuine to fuck growls at the door before shifting around so none of the group can see what’s, undoubtedly, going to be something illegal and dangerous. “Take it up with the next doctor you see.”

“I’m telling you that if I don’t find some decent painkillers then I’ll lose my shit putting up with you bitches.” Eli groans.

Turbo grumbles.

“He says-”

Angelica interrupts his boyfriend. “He says that you wouldn’t need them if you didn’t have so many shitty chains hanging off that weak-ass neck of yours.”

It’s paraphrasing, but pretty fucking close, she’s getting good at translating for him.

Crumble laughs loudly anyway, although it might be that she’s finally got two colours lined up on the Rubik’s cube Angelica’s been having her work on all week.

“You’re all dicks and I hate you.” Eli says. “Why the hell am I here?”

“Same reason as the rest of us.”

There’s a sobering moment if ever one could exist, Wesley drifts over and leans casually against his side and Turbo most definitely doesn’t inhale the familiar scent of him.

He doesn’t want to think about the rude awakening this morning, the screams that had him launching down the stairs four at a time and skidding to a stop not to an invasion or a ghoulie attack, but a kid spasming on the ground, limbs shaking uncontrollably.

Now Turbo would like to think that considering his track record, there’s little that could stir him up, but the convulsions tearing through the freckle flecked boy as his sister (a rarity these days) turned ashen and looked up at them guiltily as she curved around his heaving body protectively, were definitely enough to have him pause.

“Epilepsy.” Josh confirmed as they gathered around the temporary sick bay at midday. “They’ve been rationing the last of his medication, been lucky when he’s had a fit that it’s been in privacy. Oliver wanted to tell us but Chloe was worried that we’d kick him out.”

Now, Turbo has all but accepted that he’s stuck with this bunch of misfits until there comes a time that Wesley wants to move along. But he never expected to feel even an ounce of shame at the thought of shoving the pair out of the mall and turning their backs on them.

The Daybreakers have made him fucking weak.

It’s why he volunteers to search the hospital, a place that they all know has been a no man’s land for a good long while. He just never expected to have the group around him, would have probably laughed at the thought that he’d be willing to go into one of the most dangerous places in Glendale with little more than a hatchet, a pair of sickles, a samurai and two midgets.

And a Witch.

“Oh, am I good or what.” Angelica’s voice focuses him, she steps back as the chain drops to the ground, the smell of burnt metal overwhelming. “Don’t answer that, I’m fantastic and I know it.”

“Damn girl, that’s good.” Wesley says anyway and turns with the rest of the group to jog back behind a series of dumpsters. “Eli, you’re up.”

The self confessed bitch-queen of the mall brushes his shoulder as they duck low, pulls out one of those controllers that Turbo’s recognised spells trouble and gives an indignant sigh. “Ladies, gentlemen and those that identify as bug eating Witches, I present to you Eli’s ring of fire.”

For a whole ten seconds there’s an anticlimactic hush before a series of explosions ring out from across the city, something that Turbo had only been a little disturbed to find out was a small number of Eli's arsenal.

“Whaddaya think?” Eli peers up over the rim.

Wesley uncovers his ears first. “Eh, six out of ten.”

“Fuck you!”

Turbo, having been on the end of Wesley’s harsh scale, would sympathise. But it’s Eli… Does he need to say more? Plus he’s distracted by the droning hum of what sounds like thousands of worker bees.

“Shut up.” Angelica’s face pinches with real fear and Turbo’s hand does a stupid thing, raises as if he’s going to pat her tiny shoulder, something he aborts immediately and Crumble takes the gauntlet, enveloping her small charge in a tight hug.

 _“Holy shit.”_ Wesley whispers, stares at the ghoulies pouring out of the hospital in a lurching, mechanical fashion, the droning yielding occasional snippets of nonsensical phrases.

There’s got to be getting on a few hundred, a much higher number than any of them originally anticipated and although they’ve planned for this, and the ghoulies are decaying creatures that look like they haven’t seen the light of day for far too long.

“Who the fuck thought that it would be a good idea to try and lock Ghoulies up in a hospital anyway?” Angelica whispers, face twisting in an odd mixture of awe and horror.

Turbo answers because he was the only one there that day after all.

“Hey, for the rest of the class?” Eli gestures to Crumble and himself, despite their old teacher returning to her fascinating obsession for chewing on a corner of her cube.

Wesley takes pity on the idiot. “A kid from the Jock’s who watched too much Walking Dead and thought it should be their bible for the apocalypse.”

“Man, fuck the Walking Dead.” Eli sighs.

“I’ll say amen to that.” Angelica says. “I mean Josh would still have his finger if the schmuck didn’t slice it off copying that shit.”

Turbo didn’t know that. His opinion of Wheeler drops even lower if that were possible.

Once the ghoulies have all lumbered towards the strategically chosen sites then it’s up to KJ and her teams, and Victoria’s Cheermazon’s to deal with them, Turbo takes the lead in approaching the hospital’s entrance.

He’d expected the smell, and although it’s more pungent than he’d have liked, it’s clear that he’s doing better than the others, a chorus of gagging and choking echoing up behind him.

“I came here for stitches when I was seven,” Angelica murmur’s at his side, “how is it so much creepier now?”

She has a point, there’s something desperately uncomfortable about an abandoned hospital, the dank air, the chaos of overturned trolleys and blood spraying in wide arcs across the walls looks like something he would have seen in a daytime network film.

“It could be worse.” Eli pipes up.

“How?” Wesley takes the bait.

“Could be an insane asylum, I’m talking full Outlast fuckery.”

Wesley almost laughs. “Yeah, I suppose we don’t have to worry about any library jumpscares today.”

“Who found that scary?” Eli scoffs as he holds up his crossbow. “If you want real fear try giving your grandma a pedicure.”

Wesley smirks and Turbo gives him one hell of scowl, because fuck that moment, and fuck that game.

Angelica lifts her flame-thrower up and bravely marches forward. “Do you morons think you can focus for one moment on what we’re here to do.”

There isn’t much to say when the only one willing to proceed further is a ten-year-old, Turbo does however push back in front of her and firmly rejects her spluttering protest.

The pharmacy is a floor up and although he’d been anticipating a backlog of ghoulies trapped in the stairwell, the whole place is empty, dusty as fuck, and dark enough that they have to use torches, but nothings there so up they go. The first floors the same as the ground, blood, overturned medical equipment, a few bones littered about, not the worst it could be.

“Man, I swear if I end up dying here I’m gonna haunt all of your asses.” Eli breathes out in a heavy exhale.

“You’ve come back from the dead once, I’m sure you can manage it again.” Wesley counters, sword held in a deceptively light grip.

Angelica gets there first, ducks under Turbo’s arm to rush towards what should be another locked up area. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The pharmacy is empty, completely and utterly fucking empty, door busted open, swinging loose in the wind.

“Well that’s a buzzkill.” She points out the obvious.

_Where else could we find them?_

Wesley translates for those that don’t converse in Turbo and starts studying a hospital map. He’s decidedly less calm than he’d have them believe, nerves stretching thin and Turbo, despite the audience, takes his free hand and squeezes it in support.

“No, no, no. We had a plan, it didn’t work, and now we’re going home.” Eli also has apparently lost the ability to cool his shit.

“We’re here now, the ghoulies aren’t coming back anytime soon, so this is our best chance to find all sorts of medication.” Angelica doesn’t sound that convincing but Turbo nods in agreement because she could do with the backup.

“Okay, so there’s three other pharmacies. One’s on the floor above us and the other two are above that.” Wesley jabs the sheet of paper. “Now do we split up or stay together?”

Eli sums it up perfectly for all of them with a very eloquent: “Fuck that.”

\-----

Turbo didn’t think that he’d have to worry about this, but the hospitals not exactly what one would picture when you say the word _stable_. Whatever happened to the structure after the Boom has severely impacted the higher levels ability to take any significant weight. This leaves him eyeing the floor more than their surroundings like it might betray him at any moment.

They bypass the paediatric and maternity units on the second floor, if there’s medication down there then Turbo will do it alone at the very end, there’s nothing on this wasted planet that could sway him otherwise and despite Angelica’s weak protests - _I’m not a child, I can handle it_ \- he simply joins forces with Crumble and pushes her forward.

Then, finally, on the fourth floor there, like a hidden easter egg, Wesley spots the locked cabinets behind a nurses station, and with a bit of Eli’s (impressive) lock-picking talents, they hit the jackpot.

“Pregabalin?” Wesley pulls the bottles out and checks the labels.

“Chuck it all in, we can barter whatever we don’t use.” Angelica holds open one of the packs and starts carefully placing the more delicate bottles in there, cleverly winding a bunch of old scarves around them. “I’m never coming back here.”

“I better get a cut out of that, I’m gonna need a whole load of therapy by the end of this." Eli says.

Everything’s going far too well when they hear Sam Dean’s voice crackling over the radio.

_“Hello- fuckin’ shit- anybody listening-”_

Wesley gets over his shock first. “Eli-”

“Already tuning it.”

There’s a long pause, the distortion of white noise and then Sam’s back on, and most worryingly of all Turbo thinks before they even hear the message, is the clear note of panic.

_“- faster and stronger than anything we’ve seen yet. I repeat, if anyone’s out there listening, get inside and bar all entry points. We can’t confirm-”_

_“-_ Yes we fucking can- _”_

Mona Lisa’s fury is a force that can apparently travel through the radio waves.

 _“-_ All you sucka’s listening, there’s some big bastards running around, looks like jacked up mountain lions. If the ghoulies around you start running then you’re fucked- _”_

There’s a siren in the background noise and Turbo recognises their old system, Code Black, if it were kicking him in the face, Wesley grips his shoulder tight enough to hurt.

“Mountain lions?” Eli’s somehow got what looks like a grenade in one hand, crossbow raised in the other hand. “Please tell me your old bestie is fucking around.”

Crumble, in a rare display of authority, already has Angelica’s hand, pulls them all together with nothing more than sheer willpower when Eli looks like he’s about to be sick. “We can’t stay here, need to go, now.”

“I’m all for that, but if we go out there then what’s stopping us from getting snacked on?” Wesley points out what Turbo’s just about to groan.

“It’s gonna be dark in a couple of hours, we can’t stay here all night dumbass.” Angelica’s bark has no bite when she’s pressing closer into Crumble's side. “If the ghoulies are running away from whatever it is then we’ll only be able to use them while they’re out on the streets.”

“We’re going, now.” Crumble takes the decision out of everyone’s hands and starts marching back towards the stairs, Angelica trotting beside her.

If there’s a choice of allies then Turbo will always (after Wesley) choose The Witch. She’s a monster. In all of the best ways possible. Plus he’s seen her lift a car and shove it aside like a paperweight just to catch a spider, so yeah, he’s sticking with her.

Preferably he would have preferred having Mona Lisa here, despite their issues, they’ve always worked well together. This small crew is disjointed, he and Wesley can move silently around one another, but the others are like rusted cogs, snagging and jostling against each other.

Crumble pauses and Eli rams into Turbo’s back, Angelica swings her flame-thrower to the right when a torch flickers out and Wesley almost ends up charred. They have no flow, no rhythm, and Turbo’s just as fucking bad because he gets so distracted at criticising his team mates in his head that he doesn’t recognise the ambient groaning of the dead until Crumble’s freezing and the ground floor door slams open.

Now this is the one thing that Turbo will admit that the films show correctly, the dead are _fast_ in close quarters.

What they don’t show you is that a Witch is fucking faster.

Crumble all but throws Angelica up the stairs, an inhuman, feral sound ripping out of her throat and Turbo hasn’t got time to admire the way she holds back the surging wave of ghoulies because he’s shoving a petrified Eli back the way they came.

They charge through to the top floor as one unit, and Turbo gives the longest possible moment for Crumble, until he can smell the rotten breath of the dead in his face, before he and Wesley slam the door shut and start piling all of the shit around them against it for support.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Eli’s no use, digging around in his bag and shaking like the worlds ending. Which, get over it, it’s already happened.

“Where’s Crumble?!” Angelica tries to launch herself past them.

“I’m here.” The Witch bursts out of nowhere, and fuck she must be loved by some god because nobody should be that lucky, or that capable of defying physics.

“What do we do now?” Wesley asks, probably because somebody should be brave enough to ask the stupid questions.

Turbo eyes the heaving door and thinks: Probably not a lot.

The floor beneath his feet starts vibrating, and there’s a moment where everything narrows down to a rather unavoidable truth, Turbo’s about to turn and do that cliche thing where you tell the person you love most all of those soppy emotional sentiments that make the audiences sob in anguish.

But, like he seems best at, Eli Cardashyan ruins it by throwing a makeshift bomb.

\-----

If there’s a way to wake up from the world getting blown to smithereens then Turbo is pretty sure there are better ways than getting smacked in the face by a pyromaniac.

But Angelica’s clearly trying her best so he isn’t going to be upset about it.

“Get up!” She slaps him again for good measure and Turbo sits upright and shakes the worst of the dust off of himself.

“He still alive?” Wesley sounds like he’s too far away and Turbo has that horrible moment where he thinks he might be going deaf, whacks a hand against his ear and then winces at his own stupidity.

Turbo lets out as much of an affirmative noise as he can, pushes his legs underneath him and then sees for the first time what the fuck Eli was packing. It looks like they’ve fallen down at least a couple of floors, he can’t honestly tell you where they are, where the walls have gone on one side of them, plaster and fragments of brick and metal have him thinking that he’s probably lucky he didn’t receive an impromptu lobotomy.

“Turbo?”

Okay, pay attention, move feet, look for Wesley. Easy instructions, except he can’t see his boyfriend. Anywhere.

Angelica puts him out of his misery. “Look up there. Behind the massive fucking wall of rubble.”

Where they landed must have been unbelievably lucky because there’s a sheet of metal protruding out far enough that took the brunt of the floor collapsing above them, sliding at an angle that looks like it’s about to topple and between a hairline crack of space Turbo can make out three grimy faces.

 _Shit_.

“Yeah,” Wesley grins regardless of just how fucked they are, “you look awful babe.”

Turbo swipes a hand over his face. _Haven’t I always looked like this?_

Crumble isn’t amused. There’s a manic, eerie gleam in her eyes and if they’ve been awake while he was out of it then that means they’ve already tried to get through this mess and failed.

 _I’m going to kill you_. It doesn’t help, but he has to tell Eli regardless.

The kid has the nerve to give him the finger, which is a whole lot more crooked then it should be.

He’s also bleeding from the head, a lot. And this is the moment that Turbo’s brain registers the noise from below, a mounting, chattering mess that sends a chill down his spine.

“They can’t get up.” Angelica answers before he can ask. “The main stairwell took most of the damage, but it also means that we can’t out that way.”

“There’s a fire escape our side that Crumble checked…” Wesley trails off and Turbo gets it.

However, he’s also prepared. Something that everyone seems to be forgetting (including himself some days) Turbo was a leader for a long time, a half decent one in the beginning, and one of the things he used to instill in his Jocks when they did these sweeps. Always have a back up route in place.

He doesn’t want to use this one, but he’d thought of it and he has to get Angelica out of here.

_We can get down to the second floor, then I can get us out._

“There’s a few patches where stuff fell through, we can drop down through there.” Angelica points a small ways down the corridor and although Turbo’s not relishing placing his weight on the precarious floor, he nods confidently.

“Okay, you get out and we’ll meet you at the checkpoint.” Wesley says and Turbo hates to be the one to ruin his newly buoyant mood but he doesn’t have much of a choice here.

_Not with him. He’ll bring them all down on us._

“Oh fuck you.” Eli apparently doesn’t need a translator for the look Turbo gives him. "You're not so pretty yourself."

He’s somehow in a good state though Angelica’s placed a series of band aids over a few minor nicks to be safe. (Later he’ll see that they’re neon unicorns and find it hilarious).

_Get out and run. You won’t have time to wait around, if you’re quick you can get back to the mall without any trouble._

“Speed over stealth.” Wesley groans at him. “You really gonna make us split up like this.”

Angelica winces. “I don’t like it.”

_Unless The Witch can do her thing and get you then we don’t have a choice._

Crumble shudders, twitches, and gives up with a miserable, pained sound. “I can’t.”

“Can we get the hell on with it!” Eli pants and there’s a glaze of sweat over his pale features that actually has Turbo feeling sorry for him, or it would if he hadn’t blown them up.

“Come here.” Crumble beckons him with a crooked finger until he’s close enough. Her teeth flash at him, canines bared and it’s whole lot freakier than the horde of ghoulies below them when she whispers: “You keep her safe.”

_You keep him safe._

Crumble nods, once, accepts the unspoken promise to trade their treasures when they get the hell out of here.

“Hey, does anybody want to keep good ol’ Eli safe?!”

“Wesley, I’ll stop selling your weed to the other tribes if you leave him behind.” Angelica solemnly holds her hands up to show a lack of crossed fingers.

“Wait, that was you!” His boyfriends outrage would be enough to have him smiling any other time. “Sis, you’re so dead if we live through this.”

Angelica winks at him before turning away and Turbo thinks that this is again, probably the moment where he should say something heartfelt.

_Don’t die._

“Didn’t you know that the black guys always the first to die?” Wesley laughs at his expression.

 _I hate you_.

There’s another rise in the crescendo of ghoulie bullshit and Turbo’s already half way down the corridor, lifting Angelica over an upturned support beam (because that’s not worrying at all) when his boyfriend has to have the last word.

“Remember, you have to come back to me.”

When he glances back Wesley’s gone. Angelica, for once, doesn’t comment, silent as they cautiously drop down the floor and it may be the same feeling of fear that’s taking over her as it is for him.

Maybe it’s why he has to fill that gap, with a series of grunts yes, but it feels better than leaving her to unravel inwards. _So the way out shouldn’t be too bad._

“Define bad?”

_I’m going to throw you out of a window._

“On the second floor?”

Turbo nods, crouches down to pass under an upturned bed, and he’s more relieved than he strictly should be when she laughs.

“Has anyone told you that you have terrible manners?”

_There’s a dumpster underneath._

“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful.” Angelica rolls her eyes. “And which window am I getting tossed out of?”

 _The one through there_.

“Shit.” She says.

Yeah, this wasn’t the part of his back up route that he liked, and staring at the somehow intact doors of the paediatric ward has his spine stiffening. It’s one of those needles of guilt that he knows Mona felt as well when they finally came to think about the kids stuck in the hospital unable to move, only a month too late and neither of them bought it up so they could avoid having to come.

There’s no other way, and Angelica knows it, squaring her shoulders and hefting her flame-thrower up. “Let’s get this over with.”

_Close your eyes._

“I appreciate the sweetness, but I can’t walk through this shit without seeing.” Angelica gestures to the mess around them and gives him a weak, reassuring smile that Turbo’s suddenly realising he should never be receiving. She’s ten-fucking-years-old. Angelica’s not just another Daybreaker. She’s a _kid_.

Fuck, he’d been afraid of the dark at her age.

It’s quite easy therefore, to pick her up, ignore the protests and grunt his plan to her.

“This is _so_ unnecessary.” She huffs in disgust.

_Shut up and close your eyes._

And to the surprise of babysitters across Glendale, she does.

Now here is where Turbo would cut everything to black if they were in a film, maybe put in a jump-cut that shows them stumbling through the other side, but they aren’t in a film, and so he has to look.

Is it as bad as he expected? Yes.

Is there a point where even he, Turbo Bro Jock, formerly Pokaski, almost hurls his guts up? Yes.

Is he relying on Angelica’s skinny arms clutching around the back of his neck to anchor himself until they finally make it through the ward? More than he can ever find a way to articulate.

\-----

Okay, so he gave himself a small jump-cut there, give him a break, there’s only so much emotional garbage that one guy can put up with when they’re crouching and breathing shallowly while a pyromaniac rubs their shoulder and there’s a hundred groaning ghoulies twenty feet below them.

\-----

They get outside in the most undignified manner, Turbo stretches out of the windowsill as far as he can and swings Angelica down into a particularly rotten dumpster before he jumps from the second floor window, sending a quick prayer to whoever’s listening that he doesn’t do something stupid like crack a bone.

The smell, as gruesome as it is, helps cover them a whole lot more than expected, the horde keeps shuffling around and inside the building, the frenzy moving them like a hive mind. It’s getting darker than he’d like, Angelica’s shivering next to him, and then, as if the worlds decided to remind him the everything going to shit a piercing yowl makes his ears thrum.

 _It’s not too close_.

He says it mainly to reassure her, and finds that there’s a resolve settling Angelica’s shaking hands, she’s fiddling with a molotov, flame-thrower tucked between her knees, and when he raises a questioning brow she shakes the bottle for good measure and smiles.

“Ready to fuck shit up?” She whispers and still manages to sound fierce.

Of all the people, Wesley aside, that Turbo had to try and trek a mile home through hell, then there isn’t anyone he'd choose over the pyromaniac slime-lord.

 _Let’s do it_.

Angelica shoves her free hand out for him to shake and Turbo accepts it as she sends the molotov flying into the air.


End file.
